The Life and Times of Lily Luna Potter
by Satan's Alter Ego
Summary: This is supposed to be therapeutic. Ignoring the obvious reason why talking to a diary is idiotic, I agreed, just to placate Mum. So. Hello. Welcome to the dark and scary place known as my mi - ow, Al, shove off!
1. Chapter 1

_**The Life and Times of Lily Luna Potter**_

___Chapter One: The Introduction_

* * *

><p>Hello.<p>

…

Bloody hell, I'm really going insane, saying hello to a journal.

…and no, this isn't an insane Voldermort possessed Horcrux journal. The only thing possessing this journal is my insanity.

You see, this is supposed to be therapeutic. That's what Mum and Grandma believe, anyway. They think, on recommendation from some crazy old witch on the radio, that because I'm the youngest child in a family of thousands, if not millions, that I am somehow scarred or emotionally disturbed.

They refuse to believe that one of their many offspring is actually sane.

That is why I am currently talking to a journal.

Not a diary, mind you. I'm not one of those girls. This is more of documentation, for my biographer, perhaps – the inner workings of the deep and dark place that is known, fearfully by many, as my mind.

When they're chronicling the great life that I've led, this could come quite handy.

Therefore.

Hello.

My name is Lila Luna Potter.

As of March 2nd of this year, I am fifteen years old.

Terrible age, fifteen. I'm not old enough to be considered of age and yet I'm not young enough to convince anyone that I don't know better.

Let's get the basics over with, shall we?

Red hair, what a surprise. Hazel eyes, that's just a prettier way of saying light brown. For someone with Weasley blood, red hair and pale skin, I'm relatively freckle-free. I'm tall for my age; I developed early, thank you very much Weasley blood. When I was thirteen, I looked to be seventeen. It went over well with boys, just not those that were related to me; and there are a lot of those. I eat like a pig, or so I've been told, but Quidditch and running away from various brothers and cousins has kept me in shape. You'd think that being red haired and tall, I would've been statuesque.

I'm not.

Imagine a pale, gangly orangutan.

As for family, well, I don't really need to get into that, do I?

The only thing you need to know about the Weasleys or the Potters is that they're everywhere. You can never escape. You can't even run, let alone hide. They find you in every nook and cranny you can think of.

It's not funny.

In my short and precious fifteen years of life, I've seen more red haired people than I would like to remember. I have two brothers, one surrogate brother, nine cousins, five uncles, four aunts, two grandparents and two parents.

Christmas morning, as you can imagine, is quite messy.

The family is easy to handle if you know how to handle them. There are tricks, which I've picked up over the years.

For example, never interrupt Molly and Lucy when they're fighting. It won't end well for anyone. If Fred looks like he's going to burst, the best thing to do is get as far away from him as possible. When Louis is talkative, it means something is wrong. Conversely, if James is quiet, it means something is wrong. If Dominique is complaining about her nails, she's had a bad day and it is best not to ask why. When Hugo says he wants hot chocolate, it means he's sad. If Teddy and Victorie arrive separately, they've been fighting. When Albus can be found throwing a Quaffle around, it means that he wants to talk but he doesn't know how to bring up the conversation. Finally, when Rose hasn't done her homework, pigs are flying.

Though, over the years, the best piece of advice I have about the Weasley-Potter household is this -

If something is flying towards your head, DUCK.

With that, I shall conclude my introduction into the worst idea Mum and Grandma have had since they decided to buy a Muggle oven, because the aforementioned, slightly insane Mum is yelling for dinner and I smell roast chicken.


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Life and Times of Lily Luna Potter  
><strong>__Chapter Two: Giving a Whole New Meaning to the Phrase Caught Red Handed, or the Evening I Spent with Scorpius Malfoy in a Broom Cupboard_

* * *

><p>"I never took you for a red lace sort of girl, Lily. Not that I'm complaining."<p>

Oh, Merlin.

That, witches and wizards of the world, would be Scorpius Malfoy. You may know him from productions such as 'Ten Points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy!' or 'She Tripped and Fell On Your Lap?' often featuring Headmistress McGonagall. When he isn't terrorizing first years or luring innocent girls into broom cupboards, he can be found as the best friend of my darling brother, Albus.

Yes.

I don't quite get it either.

Much to my delight, Scorpius isn't finished talking about my choice of undergarments.

What fun.

"I always pictured you in black, you know. Like a little black lace thong. Or classic Slytherin green and silver. Red is a little too Gryffindor, don't you think? Girly too. But it's a pleasant surprise," muses Scorpius, as though talking to himself.

I blink.

"You've pictured me in my underwear?"

Looking completely unabashed of that fact, he shrugs and asks, "Let's be honest, Lil – which bloke hasn't?"

I flush as my ego gets stroked.

Nevertheless, scrunching up the little red thong in my right hand, I straighten my shoulders and arch one plucked – that hurts, by the way and I've yet to find a spell that gives me perfect eyebrows – eyebrow at Scorpius.

"Alright, Malfoy." I say. "What's it going to take?"

"For what?"

I sigh. "For your silence. I don't want Albus finding out about this…uh, incident. So, what do you want?"

"I want world peace, Lily. I want an O in Transfiguration, for Ireland to win the World Cup, for Sadie Lane to go out with me. I want lots of things."

Gah.

You'd think there was a halo around his head.

It's my own fault.

If I hadn't been so excited and caught up in the excitement of sneaking out of bed at 1am to meet a boy, I would've checked the Map like a smart witch. But, as I tiptoed past empty classrooms, I didn't bother opening the Marauders Map to check whether I was alone or not. That's when Scorpius popped up out of the shadows, smirk on his face and a bounce in his step.

Although...

"What are you doing out of bed, by the way?"

"Patrol," he replies easily.

"Patrol?"

"Patrol."

"Honestly, Scorpius. You expect me to believe that you are patrolling on the second day of the year? For one, patrols don't start till next week and secondly, _you don't do patrols!"_

He sighs. "Fine. I was looking for Mrs. Norris."

In eerily perfect timing, there's a soft 'meow' from the end of the hallway that makes us freeze.

Looks like she found him.

If Mrs. Norris is close by, Filch can't be too far behind. He may be old and cranky but boy can he move fast when there's a chance of punishing students with detention.

Scorpius acts quickly.

He takes my wrist and tugs me towards the other end of the hallway, going inside the first door he sees.

The moment we step inside, I groan softly.

"I bet this is familiar to you."

Scorpius shakes his head. "No. You don't get to judge my exploits when you've got your underwear in your hand, Lil. They call that hypocrisy."

"They call you an arse."

"They call me charming."

"They're obviously deluded."

I pause, shuffling around awkwardly.

The broom cupboard we're stuck in doesn't leave a lot of space for movement. Perhaps if one is wrapped up in another person, like Scorpius often is when he is in a broom cupboard, it would be fine but right now, I feel like the slightest bit of movement would result in touching, which is something I don't want to be doing underwear-less.

"Do you, uh," I stutter slightly, "Mind closing your eyes?"

Scorpius smirks. "If you want to kiss me, you need only ask, Lil."

"Arse. I need to put my knickers back on."

His cheeks turn a faint pinkish color, which I can see even in the darkness of the broom cupboard. Huh. I never thought I'd see the day when Scorpius Malfoy blushed.

"Oh, um, yeah, I'll just…"

Stutter, too!

Quickly I put my underwear back on, brush down my skirt and straighten my hair before telling him he can open his eyes.

Cue awkwardness.

"Do you think he's out there?" asks Scorpius, seconds later.

I panic.

Dear Merlin, what would he think if he saw Scorpius and I in a broom cupboard together, just moments after I was in a broom cupboard with him?

I'm not a harlot, I promise.

"Filch, I mean?"

Oh.

"Um, I don't know." I reply, pressing my ear against the door to hear well.

"Well, check the Map, dimwit!"

"Don't call me a dimwit, arse."

"Don't act like a –"

"Shut up," I grumble, taking the Map out of the waistband from the back of my skirt.

Unfurling it between the limited space that the cupboard provides, we scan the second floor of the castle, where we are, for Filch. Sure enough, he's hobbling up to the floor. Mrs. Norris is sauntering up and down the corridor. Thankfully, he's alone.

"Well," Scorpius says, dropping to the ground and shuffling, "We might as well get comfortable – we'll be here a while."

I sigh.

Since this isn't the first time being in a broom cupboard or hiding from Filch for either of us, we know the drill. We lock the doors, perform a silencing charm and get comfortable to wait out Filch. I cross my legs, Indian-style, and sit facing Scorpius. Our knees are touching and I can feel the vibrations from Scorpius drumming his fingers on his legs.

"So," I half-whisper, reverting to our original conversation, "What's it going to take for you to keep your mouth shut from Albus?"

"Why don't you just tell him?"

I snort.

Hah.

The last boy I dated was Jeremy Lipsen.

He can't even look at me now.

"You remember what happened to Jeremy, don't you?"

"Poor Jeremy."

"So, you can see why telling Albus isn't at the top of my to-do-list." I reply, "Besides, I don't think that I have something to tell Albus, you know? We aren't a…thing."

Scorpius nods as he asks, "The other part of we being…"

"Like I'd tell you."

"Why not?" he asks indignantly.

"Because you gossip like a third year girl in Hufflepuff, Scor." I mutter, shaking my head.

"Oh, come on, Lil. Is it Stephen Sherwood?"

"Not telling."

"David Redding?"

"Not telling."

"John Bressington?"

"Yes, it is."

"Really?"

"No."

Scorpius pouts childishly and knocks my knee with his. I shake my head and change the topic from dangerous territory.

"So, why were you looking for Mrs. Norris?"

"Ah, I had the brilliant plan of attaching a message to her tail."

I raise my eyebrows. "That's interesting." I pause, dust my knee and ask, "Who are you trying to impress?"

"Hm? What makes you – I'm not – uh, you know –"

I click my tongue. "Scorpius Malfoy stuttering. Never thought I'd ever see day, but today's a day of firsts, I suppose."

The double entendre of my words doesn't sink in for either of us till a few moments later, until Scorpius bursts like the fireworks Uncle George keeps in the back room and only sells to people who treat the art of lighting up a firework like it's performing a particularly complex healing spell.

"You lost your – today was your first – tell me you didn't, oh, Merlin, Lily! You had _sex_!"

"Oh, God, no! Not that first."

Still looking uncomfortable, Scorpius asks, "So you're still a…"

"Virgin? Yup."

Awkward.

Bloody awkward.

There's nothing else to describe the next few moments that pass between us, until Scorpius speaks in a careful and cautious tone.

"What did you mean by 'not that first'?"

"Hm?"

"Lily," Scorpius speaks slowly, "If not that first, then what first are you talking about? If he made you do something you didn't want to, then I swear, I will –"

"Relax, Mom."

"You promise you didn't do anything you didn't want to?"

"Ha. Trust me, Scorpius. I _wanted_ it."

The slight husky drop in my voice isn't completely coincidental.

I realized, long ago when puberty kicked in, that boys are susceptible to a lot of things – a low cut blouse, a little flirty smile every now and then, a girl who can kick arse in Quidditch and a husky baritone. I may or may not have used this to my advantage over the past year or so. And it may or may not please me to know that I hold this power over boys.

"Oh," is what Scorpius says.

"Besides," I add, "Do you really want the details of my sex-life?"

"Sex? There was sex? I thought you said –"

"Stop shouting, woman. There was no sex." I placate, rolling my eyes at this formerly-roguishly-handsome-boy and now high-pitched female.

"Good," he breathes out.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'good'."

"I could've had sex, you know."

"But you didn't. And you wont, for a very long time."

I scowl but decide that that conversation isn't something I want to happen in a broom cupboard at 1am.

As you can see, Scorpius and I have a fairly odd relationship.

We aren't really friends – we annoy each other too much to be actual friends, but we aren't not-friends either. I can go, and have gone, to Scorpius with a real problem in all seriousness. But we aren't enemies or anything. There's a certain camaraderie that comes from being in Slytherin together, which is a bond that Scorpius and I have that him and Albus don't, since Al's a through and through Gryffindor. Some of the time, Scorpius and I are profoundly close and others, we're at each other's throats and even more, we're plotting together. We flirt too sometimes. Innocent flirting though. Albus rolls his eyes at us when we do it, Rose scoffs.

To me, Scorpius is an amalgamation of a brotherly friend, a fellow trouble maker and a very handsome boy.

Because he is.

I'll be first to admit that Scorpius is devilishly good looking and inexplicably charming when he wants to be. Those girls that follow him into broom cupboards, this present situation notwithstanding, have perfect reason to.

With his baby blue eyes, perfectly tousled blonde hair and cheekbones to die for, Scorpius makes grown women weep with one smile.

It's too bad that behind that smile is the mind of a devil.

"Is he still out there?" asks Scorpius, interrupting my thinking.

I look down at the Map and nod, replying, "He's reached the end of the corridor."

Knowing Filch, he's probably asking every painting in the castle whether they've seen or heard anything. But they despise him almost as much as we do and I'm confident in that they won't say anything.

"So this guy," Scorpius asks, "Are you two dating?"

"No."

"Just friends?"

"No."

"Friends with benefits?"

"No."

"What the bloody hell are you two?"

"I have no clue." I reply honestly.

"You should talk to him," he advises, earnestly. "Get things out in the open and everything."

"Really?"

I'm doubtful.

Bringing up the 'where is this relationship going or what label can we put on this relationship' conversation always makes me nervous and afraid that I'm being the nag who doesn't know how to have fun.

Scorpius nods. "If the boy doesn't know that he's got a good thing going on and he should do everything in his power to keep it, he's a fool."

"That was…cheesy, Scor. Touching, but cheesy."

"What can I say? I spent the summer with my mother in France. I have a deeper understanding of the female psyche now."

I roll my eyes.

And yet he hasn't figured out that he's in love with Rose.


End file.
